Erica De Mane

Recipes:

Tomato, Fennel, Leek, and Celery Salad with Caciocavallo Cheese
Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe, Prosciutto, and White Wine
Roast Chicken with Rosemary and Last-of-the-Season Garlic
Pumpkin Agro Dolce with Vinegar and Basil
Baked Apples with Pine Nuts and Raisins

Fall’s the start of the new year in Manhattan, a time when the city wakes up after the heavy, sluggish summer and a time when I never fantasize about living anywhere else. But the rebirth of the city also signals an ending, since I know my Greenmarket will soon be winding down. I’ll have my last chances to cook with real tomatoes, six varieties of plums, basil with a bite, and local lettuces, each with a unique flavor. In mid-September baskets of Concord grapes appear in the stalls. They fill the air with a sweetness that seems unreal to me, more like synthetic candy than a living, growing thing, but they’re gorgeous in their shades of purple and translucent green, and they make an amazing sorbetto if you cut their sweetness with a splash of dry red wine (this recipe will be in my new book on Southern Italian flavors, due out in the spring). New York State’s apples are beautiful, and I’m grateful to the farmers who go to the trouble of growing so many varieties that I thought were long gone. Even growing up in New York, I was only really aware of Macintosh, Delicious, and Granny Smith. Now I can have Cortland, Baldwin, Golden Russet, Jonagold, Macoun, Jonathan, Northern Spy, Cox’s Orange Pippin, or Winesap, and those are just a few of the varieties I’ve noticed. Then come the pumpkins and the Brussels sprouts. After which it gets cold, and the farm ladies start putting out their depressing balls of wool, which are the signal for me that the market is as good as in hibernation until May.

In the early fall I find myself assembling menus that are more formal than I usually design in the summer. As the city pulls itself together again, so do I. All of a sudden a dinner with several courses and maybe two wines seems like a proper offering. Instead of bringing everything to the table at once, like I’m apt to do in the summer, I pace a meal, forcing friends stay and talk a little longer. I start lighting dinner candles again.

When the weather has begun to cool but the sun is still strong, in late September and October, I cook transitional food. I hoard the last of the local tomatoes and use summery herbs like basil and parsley in everything, knowing that their strong farm flavors soon won’t be around again until next year. At the same time I start to move away from my usual steamy Mediterranean-inspired cooking by slipping hard squashes, leeks, sage, potatoes, rosemary, and cabbage into my dishes, preparing my culinary self for the cold weather to come. These adjustments can sometimes result in clumsy cooking, but when I feel lost, I inevitably turn to Southern Italy for inspiration. Even Neapolitans cook with pumpkin and cabbage, after all.

Using crunchy, uncooked vegetables in place of delicate leafy greens is a good way to make the switch from summer to fall salads. For my early fall menu here I take leeks, fennel, and celery, slice them thinly so they’re not too clunky, and toss them with last-of-the-season tomatoes for a refreshing first course. I used little green Zebra tomatoes, but whatever you have that can be cut into wedges will be fine. The caciocavallo cheese and black olives I also added provide saltiness and richness.

When I serve pasta as a first course in true Italian style, as I’ve decided to for this menu, I always try to streamline its flavors so I don’t exhaust everyone’s palate before the meal is even half through. Here I highlight the stemmy broccoli rabe I always find at the Greenmarket in early fall, and I mellow out its bitterness with bits of prosciutto. These two courses could really be the whole meal and in summer pasta and salad often is, but if you’ve got your guests’ attention, I see no reason not to continue on to a meat course and a vegetable side dish, especially if you serve small portions of everything. Even when I serve a succession of courses, I try to think of each dish as equal in importance. After many years of what I feel is thoughtful cooking, I’ve stopped thinking so much in terms of main course or first course. I try to view a meal as a group of dishes that have a natural flow of flavors and textures.

After my pasta, I offer a roast chicken with the woodsy, cool-weather aroma of rosemary, a taste of lushness after the bitter broccoli rabe. I’ve included a somewhat pungent sweet-and-sour Sicilian pumpkin dish to serve with the chicken. I’m always looking for unexpected things to do with fall squashes, since they can be a little bland, and I find the usual sweet purées and soups unappealing after about a spoonful. Zucca all’agro dolce is a sweet-and-sour Sicilian dish made with pumpkin or another squash. Its more often found on antipasto tables than as a side dish, but I find its pungency is a good match for poultry (not only for chicken but for rich, fatty duck as well). When I first tasted this dish in Sicily years ago, I found it strange, with its mint, sugar, and touch of cinnamon all mixed together with garlic and vinegar. Its flavor has grown on me, and now I make it every fall. Zucca all’agro dolce is most often flavored with mint, but since I’ve chosen to serve mine with a rosemary-scented chicken, I thought basil would blend more naturally on the taste buds, so I’ve used that instead. For dessert I have baked apples flavored with white wine and the classic Sicilian-Arab duo of raisins and pine nuts.

Lately I’ve been liking a light red Sicilian wine called Cerasuolo di Vittoria, which is made from Sicily’s indigenous Frappato grape. It works well with all the dishes in this meal, starting with the salad, with its caciocavallo cheese, and even tastes good with the vinegary pumpkin. I like this light, slightly acidic wine served slightly chilled, as you might serve a young Beaujolais. Valle dell’Acate is a good producer to look for.

Tomato, Fennel, Leek, and Celery Salad with Caciocavallo Cheese

(Serves 4)

2 medium-size late-summer tomatoes, seeded, chopped into medium dice, and drained in a colander for about 20 minutes
1 large fennel bulb, trimmed, cored, and very thinly sliced
2 celery stalks, thinly sliced, plus the leaves from about 5 stalks, left whole
1 leek, well cleaned, the white and the very lightest green part sliced into very thin rounds
A handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, left whole
A handful of black olives (Niçoise are nice for this)
A small chunk of caciocavallo cheese
Extra-virgin olive oil
Lemon juice
1 anchovy fillet, minced
A few gratings of nutmeg
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

When you’re ready to serve the salad, place the tomatoes, fennel, celery with leaves, leek, parsley, and olives in a large salad bowl. With a sharp vegetable peeler, add about a dozen generous shavings of the caciocavallo. Drizzle about 3 tablespoons of good olive oil over everything, and squeeze on about a teaspoon or so of lemon juice (having tomatoes here, you don’t want an overly acid dressing). Add the minced anchovy, and sprinkle the salad with salt, a little nutmeg, and black pepper. Toss everything gently and taste for a good balance of olive oil to acid, adjusting it if you need to.

Serve right away.

Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe, Prosciutto, and White Wine

Orecchiette with cima di rape (broccoli rabe) may be the most popular pasta dish in Puglia. I’ve had it many times in Puglian towns, always without meat but often with a touch of anchovy and a little hot chili. The Italian-American version almost always contains sausage. I find that a little heavy, but I like the dish with pork, so I’ve included a bit of chopped prosciutto here.

Orecchiette is a Puglian pasta, made with water and semolina, that is shaped like little hollow half circles (the name actually means little ears, and I suppose they do look a little like that). Orecchiette is still made by hand by some patient Puglian women, but they make good commercial brands that you can buy here too. Look for one by Sapore di Puglia. It has a desirable roughed-up matte texture and cooks up properly chewy.

If you want to make the more traditional Puglian non-meat version, leave out the prosciutto and prosciutto fat and add about four anchovy fillets and one dried red chili, crumbled, when you add the garlic in the recipe.

(Serves 4)

2 bunches of broccoli rabe, stemmed and lightly chopped
Salt
1 pound orecchiette
Extra-virgin olive oil
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
Freshly ground black pepper
A small wineglass of dry white wine
5 thin slices of prosciutto di Parma, the excess fat removed (but chop and save the fat)
A half-pound chunk of Grana Padano cheese

Put up a large pot of pasta cooking water. Add a generous amount of salt, and bring it to a boil. Add the broccoli rabe, and blanch it for 2 minutes. Scoop the broccoli rabe from the pot with a large strainer spoon, and put it in a colander. Run cold water over it to stop the cooking and to preserve its bright green color. When it is cold, squeeze out all the excess water with your hands (I usually go through it again at this point to remove any remaining thick stems too).

Start cooking the orecchiette.

In a skillet large enough to hold all the sauce and the pasta, heat about 4 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the chopped prosciutto fat and the garlic, and sauté until the garlic is just turning the lightest shade of gold and the fat has melted. Add the broccoli rabe, season with salt and black pepper, and sauté until it is well coated with oil, about 3 minutes. Add the white wine, and let it boil for a minute, leaving some liquid in the skillet.

When the orecchiette is al dente, drain it, leaving a little water clinging to it, and add it to the skillet. Grate on a tablespoon or so of Grana Padano. Add a drizzle of fresh olive oil, and toss everything gently for a minute to blend all the flavors. Transfer to a large serving bowl. Bring the remaining chunk of Grana Padano to the table for those who might like extra.

Roast Chicken with Rosemary and Last-of-the-Season Garlic

The classic Italian marriage of rosemary and garlic is one that I love, and I find it especially enticing when they’re blended in a subtle manner, since both ingredients can be aggressive when used in abundance. I season the chicken with them only on the inside, and I balance everything out with the gentle acidity of dry white wine.

(Serves 4)

1 approximately 3 1/2-pound free range chicken
3 branches of rosemary
5 cloves of moist garlic, unpeeled but lightly crushed with the side of a knife
A few pats of softened, unsalted butter
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A few scrapings of nutmeg
A large wineglass of dry white wine
A drizzle of champagne vinegar

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Dry off the chicken and place the rosemary branches and crushed garlic cloves in its cavity. (There’s no need to close it up, and it doesn’t matter if some of the herbs stick out a bit.) Choose a low-sided baking dish that will allow a few inches of free space around the chicken (this will let it crisp up nicely). Rub the chicken with the softened butter and place it in the dish. Drizzle a little olive oil over the top. Season generously with salt, black pepper, and a few scrapings of fresh nutmeg. Place the chicken in the oven, legs facing the back (where it’s usually hottest), and bake, uncovered, for about 15 minutes. Pour the wine into the dish and bake for another hour and 15 minutes, basting every once in a while. You should always have at least a half inch of liquid in the dish. If it starts to evaporate too much, add a little warm water. The chicken should now be golden and crisp. Take it from the oven, and let it sit in the baking dish for about 5 minutes. Then pick the chicken up using a kitchen towel, and tilt the open end into the baking dish so all the rosemary and garlic-scented juices can be incorporated into the sauce (I sometimes instead insert a long serving fork into the cavity and pull it out that way). Place the chicken on a serving platter, and cover it loosely with aluminum foil until you’re ready to serve it.

Spoon off all the excess fat from the chicken juices and place the baking dish over a low flame, scraping up all the cooked-on bits from the bottom with a whisk. When the juices start to bubble, add a tiny drizzle of vinegar, whisking it into the sauce (this will bring up all the flavors). Taste to see if it could use some salt or a little fresh black pepper. Pour the sauce through a strainer into a small sauce boat. Carve the chicken, and spoon some of the sauce over each serving.

Pumpkin Agro Dolce with Vinegar and Basil

This is a version of one of Sicily’s much-loved agro dolce (sweet and sour) dishes, which are made all over the island. They get their characteristic taste from a blending of vinegar with sugar or honey.

(Serves 4 as a side dish)

A small wineglass of dry white wine
About a teaspoon of sugar
A tiny pinch of ground cinnamon
About a tablespoon of champagne vinegar
Extra-virgin olive oil
Half a small cheese pumpkin (about a pound and a half), peeled, seeded, and cut into approximately 1-inch-thick slices
2 garlic cloves, peeled
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A small handful of basil leaves, lightly chopped

In a small saucepan, mix the white wine with the sugar, a pinch of cinnamon, and the champagne vinegar. Let it bubble over medium heat for about 2 minutes, just to dissolve the sugar and to burn off some of the alcohol.

Pour about half an inch of olive oil into a large skillet and let it get hot over a medium flame. Add the pumpkin slices and the garlic cloves, season everything generously with salt and black pepper, and let the slices cook without moving them around at all until they’re lightly browned on one side. Flip them over and brown the other side. Pour off all but about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Pour the wine mixture over the pumpkin, turn the heat to low, and cover the skillet. Cook gently for about another 4 minutes, just until the pumpkin is fork tender but not falling apart.

Turn off the heat, uncover the skillet, and let the pumpkin cool for a few minutes in the skillet to help it absorb all the flavors. Add the basil. The dish should have a subtle sweet-and-sour taste, more mellow than sharp. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Baked Apples with Pine Nuts and Raisins

If you travel to Southern Italy in the winter, you’ll be surprised to find baked apples sitting on dessert wagons, especially in Campagna. Apples are so much a part of my New York upbringing that I was amazed to learn they could even grow in the Mezzogiorno. I’ve never seen this exact recipe anywhere, but combining these ingredients makes so much sense to me that I can’t believe some cook, somewhere in Southern Italy, hasn’t come up with it as well.

(Makes 6 apples)

6 baking apples (I used a Jonathan apple for this, but Cortland or another firm, not too sweet variety will also work well)
3 tablespoons of unsalted butter, softened
A few gratings of nutmeg
A drizzle of olive oil
2 tablespoons wildflower honey
2 tablespoons sugar
A large wineglass of dry white wine
A handful of raisins
A handful of pine nuts, lightly toasted

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Core the apples and cut away of round section of skin from the top of each one so you have a collar around each one. Slice a thin layer off the bottom of each apple so they will stand upright. Choose a baking dish that will fit them snugly, and coat it with about a tablespoon of the butter. Place the apples in the dish, and dot the remaining butter over and inside them. Sprinkle on the nutmeg, and give them a drizzle of olive oil. Drizzle on the honey, and sprinkle them with sugar. Pour the wine around the apples (you’ll want about an inch of wine in the dish), and bake, uncovered, until they are tender, about 50 minutes to an hour, depending on the variety you use. Baste the apples occasionally while cooking to keep them moist on top.

Remove the apples to a serving platter. Strain the cooking liquid through a fine strainer into a small saucepan. Add the raisins, and boil the liquid down over high heat until it is syrupy (you should have about 1/2 cup). Pour this over the apples, and scatter on the pine nuts. Serve warm.